The Ghost of Christmas Past
by Jimmy Candlestick
Summary: This is a collection of Christmas stories. Hopefully about every character on either team, plus Dr.Tezla and Lani. I'm gonna try to finish before Christmas. All of these should be about past Christmas memories. Anon. Reviews allowed.
1. Mary

Dr. Tezla looked at the picture once more. It was of a young couple in front of a Christmas tree. She was very pretty blond hair and, though you couldn't tell from the faded colored picture, blue eyes. He was tall and handsome with light brown hair and glasses. They were not in an endearing pose, yet there was something about them, that showed they were deeply in love.

"_I love you, Peter…"_

Those were the last words she said to him. He didn't care if they sounded sappy; he would forever hold them close. She was one of the few who had supported his work. Her name was Mary.

She was about to go out to a Christmas party on the eve of that wonderful holiday, forty years ago today. They had only enjoyed a few years of marriage-years he missed so much.

He had been sick that day. She wanted to stay home with him, but he insisted on her going.

"_Don't let me spoil your evening. Go enjoy yourself."_

He remembered his own words as if it was yesterday. She had left, and he drifted off to sleep. At midnight, the doorbell rang, waking him. The police were at the door with bad news.

A drunk driver hit her car at a stop light, killing her instantly. He honestly did not remember much of the funeral. He did, however, remember making the decision to leave and continue his research elsewhere. It was then that people really noticed his eccentric behavior. They usually saw him with Mary and, with her, he truly was normal. Now, he devoted practically all his time to his work.

Peter Tezla put the picture down.

"Merry Christmas, Mary. I love you too."


	2. Hospital

Lying on his back, he just stared at the ceiling. It was Christmas Eve, and someone, presumably Lani, had Christmas music playing. As the strains of the music reached his ears, he thought back to a Christmas memory from seven years before.

At that time, Kurt, the elder Wylde sibling, was eighteen and in his rookie year as a racer. He had won quite a few races before, a huge accomplishment for someone so young in the Grand Prix, and had one more race that year.

Because it was just a few weeks before Christmas, Markie was out of school and at the race. Kurt had even convinced his crew chief to let the eleven-year-old stay in the pit.

It had been just over a year since their parents had died, and the youngster had been feeling the loss. The fact that Kurt had actually went to the trouble of getting permission for Markie to be with the crew cheered the boy up immensely. However, the joy wouldn't last long.

Near the end of the race, a huge pile-up occurred, and only few cars managed to get through. Kurt, who had been near the back waiting for his chance to move, was caught in the crash. Five or six cars were really torn up, and three drivers, including Kurt, were in bad shape.

By the time Kurt's crew chief arrived at the hospital with Markie, Kurt had just gotten out of surgery and transferred into a room in ICU. While Markie entered the room, the doctor pulled the chief aside. A nurse smiled at Markie as he neared the bed.

He hadn't noticed though. Once he looked through the doorway, he had focused on his brother, all hooked up to different wires and tubes, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose.

The memory was still fresh in his mind. He was back in the hospital room, sliding his small hand into his brother's big, limp one. Telling him, in so quiet a voice it could hardly be called a whisper, not to die.

"_Don't die Kurt…It's not even Christmas yet…"_

When the chief walked in, Markie knew it wasn't exactly good news. Kurt was in a coma, and they didn't know if he was going to live or not. Markie just burst into tears, throwing himself into the crew chief's arms.

A week passed. Kurt still hadn't awaken, but fewer things were attached to him. Markie spent all week in that room, waiting for his brother to open his eyes.

Another week passed. Everyone but Markie had lost hope of Kurt ever waking up again. Dan Dresdan, Kurt's teammate and good friend, had been coming whenever possible and now tried to convince Markie to come to the hotel with him to get some rest. The boy adamantly refused. The hospital staff didn't have heart to send the boy away, so they agreed that he could stay. Dan ended up staying too, just to keep an eye on Markie.

Too soon it was Christmas Eve, and even Markie started to give up. That night, he crawled onto the bed after the nurse made her last round for the night. He laid his head on Kurt's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Slow and weak, yet steady and there. He fell asleep thinking a nurse would come and wake him up.

But that didn't happen. Instead, on Christmas morning, he was woken by something completely different. Kurt was stirring beneath him. He looked up, and to his great delight, his brother's blue eyes met his brown.

Markie got up from his bed, and opening the door, he walked down the corridor to the cafeteria. Sometimes, he wondered how things got like they are since that day. _Seven years tomorrow._

He shook his head as he rounded the corner.

"Whoa!" A voice exclaimed right as they were about to collide.

Surprised, Markie looked up into Kurt's face. For once, instead of glaring at each other and starting to fight, Kurt smiled. And Markie could see that smile, as his brother's blue eyes met his brown.

* * *

**Okay, the Grand Prix doesn't usually hold races around Christmas. So, forgive me on that. By the way, I almost had Markie call this the best Christmas present ever. Thank goodness I didn't.**


	3. Family

Vert reached up to tighten the new container of nitrox onto his car. Christmas melodies wafted through the air, reminding everyone what the next day was. The single wish shared by all the drivers was that everything would be nice and quiet the next day. That meant no new realms, no fighting, no nothin'!

You better watch out,  
You better not cry,  
Better not pout,  
I'm telling you why:  
Santa Claus is coming to town.

As he listened to the familiar song, he chuckled as he remembered a conversation with Nolo at breakfast.

* * *

"_If Santa Claus was real, what would you ask him for?" the Hispanic asked._

_Vert shrugged. "I dunno. A rainbow pony?"_

_Nolo punched him lightly in the shoulder. "I was being serious."_

"_Who says I wasn't?"_

"_Your car."_

"_My car can talk now?"_

"_She doesn't like the idea of being replaced by a rainbow pony." _

"Well, she'll have to get over it."

* * *

Vert's smile disappeared as he actually thought about what he really wished or. His mother. She had died in a car crash, one day taking him home from the beach. It was a car crash. The blond wasn't sure who was more devastated, him or his dad.

The song now was Sleigh Ride. Vert stopped his work to listen. This had been his mom's favorite song. Whenever it came on, she would somehow convince his dad to dance with her. They would waltz around the house as it played merrily in the background. At the end, she would say, "That was a fine dance, Captain."

She had always called his dad 'The Captain.' Vert remembered climbing around under the tree, in search for his presents. He would often find presents addressed to 'The Captain' from 'The Captain's Wife." It was, of course, the only time of the year he allowed his parents to get 'mushy.' Vert smiled slightly as he remembered how, when he was younger, he even let something as horribly yucky as a kiss under the mistletoe go by. Hey! Whey you're seven, kisses are the worst thing imaginable.

He had to admit though, since Mom hadn't been there, he kinda missed the mushy moments, and the presents addressed to 'The Captain.'

His dad hadn't become a Major until a few years after…the accident. Vert and his father never could say those few words. It was always, 'the accident.' Since then, he and his dad hadn't been on the best of terms either.

That's it. If Santa was real, and he could ask the big guy for anything, it would be one more Christmas with his whole family together.

"Hey, Vert?" The voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, Nolo?" he answered.

"You okay? You've been staring off into space for a while now."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"About that rainbow pony of yours?" Nolo said, smiling.

Vert smiled back. "Yeah, you can say that."

A few minutes later, with his work done, Vert headed for his room. He flopped onto his bed, grabbing his phone at the same time. Quickly looking through his phonebook, he selected a name and dialed.

After a few rings, someone answered.

"Hey, Dad," Vert began, "it's me. Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas…"


	4. Dog

While almost everybody else was up and about, one Teku member was still fast asleep. Two nights before, he was up all night working on his car, and only got about four hours of sleep. Night after that, he was called into a realm. Unfortunately, it happened again last night.

After the race, Kurt had felt like a zombie. So, right now he was la-la-land, dreaming about, what else, a Christmas long ago…

_The sky was cloudy and gray, pregnant with snowflakes just ready to fall. Not that they needed the snow. Half-a-foot was already covering the ground with its pristine whiteness._

_Two boys, one thirteen the other six, both with black hair, were dragging a sled along the sidewalk towards the park. The younger was chattering excitedly, while his older brother listened patiently. It was his first trip to the park with just his brother accompanying him, and not his parents. Not that he didn't love his parents, but he was six! A big boy! Six was definitely old enough to be with his brother and friends, without parents._

_Presently, a blond haired boy, the same age as the older brother, joined them._

"_Markie's comin' too?" He asked._

"_Yeah," Kurt answered. "He wouldn't quit bugging me to come along."_

_Dan nodded._

_They had continued walking when Dan came out of his house, but the older boys slowed down to talk, while Markie skipped ahead of them. Well, he _was_ ahead of them. When they looked up, he wasn't there._

_Both the boys' eyes widened as they quickened their steps. To their great distress, Markie's footsteps led them to Mr. Patterson's house. Mr. Patterson would get drunk often, and it wouldn't be a surprise if he had already had a few drinks that morning._

_As they turned up the driveway they could hear the young boy yelling at the man. Seconds later, they saw why. Markie was sitting on the snow, arms wrapped around the neck of a shaggy Border Collie. It was apparent that Mr. Patterson was already slightly drunk, and had gotten mad at his dog._

_Unfortunately, he was also getting mad at Markie._

"_Markie!" Kurt called, fearing what the drunk man might do to his brother._

_The little boy rose from his position, yelling, "Kurt! We gotta take Collie home with us!"_

"_No you won't!" The man shouted. "That's my dog! Now git!"_

_The two older boys nodded, and left as fast as possible with a screaming and kicking Markie between them. They ran all the way home, where Markie was sent to his room as Kurt and Dan told the story._

_That night after dinner, Markie went straight to bed to cry. Dad said they couldn't take the dog. While Mom went up to comfort the boy, Kurt sat quietly, fidgeting at the table._

_After a few bites, Mr. Wylde looked at this eldest son. What's wrong Kurt?"_

_Kurt looked up. "well, I kinda agree with Markie. Maybe we should buy the dog. Mr. Patterson doesn't take good care of it."_

_His father was quiet for a moment. Kurt looked up at him with pleading eyes. Similar to the look Markie ad given minutes earlier._

"_I'll give it some thought," he said. Then he finished his dinner, and went into the living room to watch some T.V._

_The next day was Christmas Eve. Kurt and Dan made the delayed trip to the park, and even though they invited Markie, he turned the offer down. The two boys had fun, but the dog was on their minds._

_On the way home, they were surprised to find Kurt's dad come from Mr. Patterson's drive, with Collie following on a rope._

"_Kurt, Dan," he greeted them._

"_Hi Dad."_

"_Hey Mr. Wylde."_

"_Dad, watcha doing with the dog?" Kurt inquired._

"_Nothin'. Just dropping her off at the Dresdan's so you and I can pick her up tomorrow morning."_

"_Why tomorrow?"_

"_Why? Well, your mother and I talked, and it wouldn't hurt to have one more present for Markie."_

Kurt's face lit up. "Dad! He's gonna love it!"

_His dad just smiled._

Knocking on the door woke Kurt with a start. Getting up, he opened the door. IT was Nolo, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever.

"You know Kurt, it _is_ ten. Don't suppose you could join us?"

With his head tiredly leaning against the door jam, Kurt uttered one word, "Leave."

His young team leader just smiled, and walked away.

As Kurt drank his coffee, black, in the cafeteria, he remembered Markie's face when he and his dad came into the house with Collie. He had never seen his little brother so happy.

Smiling, he raised his cup, intending to drink, only to discover it was empty. Funny, he didn't feel any more awake. He frowned. Coffee needs to be stronger. After second cup, he walked out through the corridor.

Rounding the corner, he suddenly exclaimed, "Whoa!"

Markie looked up with surprise clearly written across his face. He didn't have his sunglasses on, and Kurt could see, just for a second, the little boy standing up for that abused dog. He smiled, and then moved passed his bemused brother.


	5. Water

**Almost forgot, this story almost earns a T rating. And one question: Why hasn't anyone touched this yet?**

* * *

The bed creaked as the big man tossed and turned in his sleep. The blanket lay in a tousled heap on the floor. His arms and legs began to make small frantic movements. Slight as they were, it was obvious he was trying to do something. Escaping? What was it that a man so large had need to run from?

_The water bubbled all around him, trapping him in its cold, merciless grip. The light above getting dimmer as he sank further beneath the surface._

A cold sweat broke out on the man's face, matting his red hair to his head. Whimpering sounds escaped his lips. He began to gasp as if he was short of breath.

_His lungs about to burst, he could barely make out the dark shape of his father swim to him. Something, warmer than the icy waters, grabbed him, pulling him up. Black spots danced before his eyes._

The man's chest heaved. Still asleep, he sucked in the air.

_He burst through the surface, frantically clawing for the boat. Big hands pushed him up onto the craft, allowing him to board. After a few moments of breathing in the air, the young boy turned around to help his father up. The man hadn't followed, which surprised the boy. What was worse, when he turned, he saw nothing._

Porkchop jerked awake into a sitting position. He was still breathing deeply. He always had that dream on Christmas Eve. That was the day it happened. So many years ago.

He was five then. He still remembered that day so vividly. He had sat in the boat shivering, calling out for his dad, hoping for an answer. It was around noon when someone finally came around in another boat. They had been called by his mother, and came to search for him. They found him, shivering violently, trying to call for his dad.

A few days later, the lake was searched. They found his father's body. The autopsy revealed a heart attack. Ever since that day, Porkchop blamed himself. It was his fault. _He _had wanted to go out on the lake. _He _had stood too close to the edge. If he hadn't begged for the trip, his dad would still be alive.

His phone rang, making him jump.

"Hello," he answered.

"Hey, it's me." A feminine voice replied.

A smile came over Porkchop's grizzled features. "How ya doin' Amelia?"

Amelia chuckled. "I'm fine. I called to see how you're holdin' up."

She did that as often as possible. She was born right after their father died. Porkchop was very fond of her. She was the only person to know of his guilt.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly.

"You had that dream again, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

He sighed. "Yeah."

Silence.

"You ought to visit more often," she said breaking the quiet.

"I know."

She deepened her voice. "I know. Then why don't you?"

"'Cuz."

"'Cuz? Just, 'cuz? That's sad bro, sad. Ope! Someone is beckoning me! Listen, you have a Merry Christmas."

"Alright. You too."

"And remember. If Dad didn't love you, you wouldn't be alive. That jump was for you."

A slight smile, a sigh, and a quiet answer, "I know."


	6. Wish

**Hey, the song is by Steven Curtis Chapman, i'ts called All I Really Want, and i recommend you get it.**

* * *

The smallest Maniac went about his work cheerfully. So cheerfully in fact, he was whistling. Christmas Eve was his favorite day ever. Yeah, that's he thought about it. Growing up, most kids thought that Christmas day was better, but not Monkey.

What many people didn't know about him was the fact that McClurg wasn't his real name. It was Smith. McClurg is the name of his adoptive parents.

_Well I don't know if you remember me or not  
I'm one of the kids they brought in from the home  
I was the red-haired boy in an old green flannel shirt  
You may not have seen me – I was standing off alone  
I didn't come and talk to you, 'cause that's never worked before  
And you'll prob'ly never see this letter anyway  
But just in case there's something you can do to help me out  
I'll ask you one more time_

Yes, I just said 'adoptive.' Yes, that means Monkey was adopted. For eight years he had longed to be adopted. Eight long years. Most boys his age would ask for different toys for Christmas. But all the boys in the home wished for a family.

All I really want for Christmas  
Is someone to tuck me in  
A shoulder to cry on if I lose  
Shoulders to ride on if I win  
There's so much I could ask for  
But there's just one thing I need  
All I really want for Christmas is a family 

Though he had been an orphan since he was a babe, he had seemed to know, even since then, that the kind people that cuddled and held him, were not his parents. They were always loving, but there is something about parents, that one knows, and is distinct.

It was also different, having all these other siblings around, but they weren't your siblings. Just friends you knew really well, and who you had the occasional fight with. Monkey would often daydream about having real brothers and sisters to play with.

Sometimes, if it was rainy a few kids would sit together and talk about families. They would see, or hear of, Dads playing with their children. Ball, or piggy-back rides, wrestling, or races. Though it did seem like they all really wanted a mom. Someone who would fix their food before School, help them with homework, clean and bandage their scrapes, and to comfort them.

Well I guess I should go ahead and tell you now  
If it's really true about that list you have  
Somehow I always seem to end up in a fight  
But I'm really trying hard not to be bad  
But maybe if I had a brother or a dad to wrestle with  
Well, maybe they could teach me how to get along  
And from everything I've heard  
Sounds like the greatest gift on earth would be a mom 

Families often seemed like a fantasy among them. They all dreamed of someone, who you knew loved you and had chosen you, to comfort, or celebrate with, you. Monkey always thought that it wouldn't matter at all if there were even some problems in the family.

All of them would agree that the family didn't have to be perfect. After all, the kids had problems themselves. As long as they had a family.

All I really want for Christmas  
Is someone to tuck me in  
A shoulder to cry on if I lose  
Shoulders to ride on if I win  
There's so much I could ask for  
But there's just one thing I need  
All I really want for Christmas 

_Is someone who'll be there  
To sing me "Happy Birthday"  
For the next 100 years  
And it's OK if they're not perfect  
Well, even if they're a little broken, that's alright  
'Cause so am I_

Monkey remembered when one family had come in. They were very friendly and kind. Two parents, a boy and a girl. They would come several times, and would talk to all the kids. Especially Monkey.

Well, I guess I should go  
It's almost time for bed  
And maybe next time I write you  
I'll be at home 

Their name was McClurg. They happened to be interested in cars, a trait Monkey shared. They more they visited the more Monkey wanted to be part of their family. One day, he was called to the director's office.

'Cause all I really want for Christmas  
Is someone to tuck me in  
Tell me I'll never be alone  
Someone whose love will never end  
Of all that I could ask for  
Well, there's just one thing I need  
All I really want for Christmas  
All I really want for Christmas is a family 

Christmas Eve, at age eight, Monkey became Mitchell McClurg and moved into his new home. The very best day of his life. He grew up in that family, learning so much, and feeling more loved and accepted than ever. 

Just a family

That's all I really need 

Yes. Christmas Eve was definitely his favorite day ever.


	7. Friends

Black ponytail swinging, Lani walked swiftly down the hall. Tork had run out of nitrox, so she went to the storage room to get some more. Normally, they already had a few containers in the garage, but Lani had gotten distracted when she realized she needed to get more.

Though it was slightly annoying, having to run back and forth with her various chores, she was in an extremely good mood. The music seemed to cheer the Acceledrome. To her great delight, nobody had complained about the music yet.

As she opened the door, her thoughts turned to home. Lani came from Hawaii, and it surprised her when her parents had actually let her move to the States. Here, she not only worked for Dr.Tezla, but also studied to be a nurse. The latter seemed to be the main reason her parents let her move. Probably to get her away from street racing. Good luck doing that with Teku and Metal Maniacs around.

Lani unlocked a container, smiling absentmindedly. She loaded it onto her car, and turned for another. Her parents didn't mind racing, just street racing. Back home on Maui, Lani had met a street racing team and became good friends with them. They were actually the ones that taught her how to race, and about cars. If it wasn't for them, she wouldn't be any help to the drivers, setting them up for the nitrox system. Well, she wouldn't be there at all if it wasn't for them.

The car filled, she pushed it back towards the hall. Last year, Eric, the team leader, came up to visit her. It was around this time of year, and he arrived bearing gifts from both her parents and the team. They spent the next few days together, Lani showing him around town. At one point, someone asked if they were a 'couple.' They had smiled politely and said no. Once in the car, they proceeded to nearly die of laughter.

Lani exited the room, and walked to the garage. Eric was about ten years older than her, and was much more like a brother. The whole team was like family. And she really missed them. Especially since eight months before, her parents had died. She went down for the funeral, and was pleasantly surprised to see the whole team there.

Pushing the car into the garage, she first gave Tork his container, and then deposited the rest in the Maniacs area. Next she had to replenish the Teku's stockpile.

This was her first Christmas without her parents being involved somehow. She wasn't exactly sure how she was going to cope. Though last year she wasn't home, they had called to wish her Merry Christmas. Years before that, she was always home, just waiting for the time she would be able to open the presents while her parents looked on.

In the storage room, her cell rang.

"Hello?"

Her answer was met with singing on the other line. She started laughing and crying at the same time, as she recognized the voices of her 'brothers' singing, We Wish You a Merry Christmas.


	8. Story

"Thanks Lani," he said as they heaved the nitrox off of the car.

She nodded and walked off to place the rest in the stock pile. Tork couldn't help but noticed the funny smile Lani wore. _Like she remembered something funny. _

Tork hoisted the container to attach it to the car. Everyone seemed to be in a fairly good mood. Nolo hadn't glared at him yet. Wylde and his brother hadn't fought yet. And a portal hadn't opened. Yup. So far, it was a pretty good day.

"Hey Tork," he looked up to see Wylde standing there. "Did Lani get more-oh wait, never mind. I see them."

Tork snorted lightly as he watched Wylde walk towards the new containers of nitrox. Even Wylde was in a good mood. He looked over to the Teku side, beginning to wonder if Wylde had actually murdered Kurt (Which would therefore be the source of his good mood.). Thankfully, he saw the elder Wylde walk over to Vert, who apparently needed some help with his car. Kurt looked tired, but otherwise unharmed. In fact, he also looked somewhat pleased.

Tightening the last bolt, Tork turned to see a bemused Monkey walk into the garage.

"What's wrong Monkey?" He asked.

"Nothing's wrong with me," Monkey answered. "It's Porkchop."

"Porkchop?"

As if on cue, the big man walked into the garage. He grunted in return of their greetings.

Lowering his voice, Tork asked, "Have you tried talking to him?"

Monkey nodded. "But he won't say anything."

Tork narrowed his eyes. "Well, let's just give him a few days. He'll come around."

Monkey mumbled something in return before walking off. Looked like not everyone was in a good mood. Christmas, Tork decided, was possibly an odd holiday. Thought it is most definitely odd without decorations. The music helped, but a tree would help some.

_Whoa!_ Tork stopped himself. Since when did he focus on decorations? That's a girl's job. Well, maybe tradition was kicking in.

The Metal Maniac leader didn't grow up in a home that was exactly well off. His family, his mom and two younger brothers, had lived in a dilapidated home in a dangerous neighborhood. Definitely not the most ideal home for raising kids in. But they managed.

Every Christmas, Tork had noticed other peoples home. In the window a tree was decorated brightly with lights, ribbons, and ornaments. Lights would be strung outside on the bushes and house. Those housed were beautiful.

Thought envy would arise in his young mind at the sight of those houses, it would not last long. At home, they didn't have lights on the outside, or a pretty wreath on the door, but they did have a tree. A shabby tree, with branches missing and homemade ornaments. But it was a tree nonetheless. However, that wasn't the favorite decoration. The favorite was the nativity.

_

* * *

The young boy stared hard at the scene before him. He reached a little brown hand out to grab the baby from the manger._

"_Why aren't you in bed?"_

_The five-year-old spun around to face his mother. Hands on hips with and eyebrow cocked, his mother looked imposing. "Well?"_

_He guiltily answered, "I was lookin' at the stable."_

"_I see. You can look at it tomorrow."_

"_But-"_

"_But what? Tomorrow you get to open your presents, the sooner you're asleep, the sooner tomorrow will get here."_

"_Well, I wanted to know why people have these," he said waving his hand towards the nativity set. "Is it a story?"_

_Somewhat surprised, his mother answered, "Yes. Do you want to know it?"  
_

_He nodded eagerly._

_They sat on the couch and he snuggled up against his mother._

_After a moment, she began. "A long time ago, a mean old king decided to send people back to where they were born, so he could count them. One of the people was named Joseph, and he was about to get married to a woman named Mary. Now Mary had been told by an angel that she was pregnant-"_

"_Like you were when James was in your tummy?" The boy interrupted._

_She smiled. "Yes. Like me, kind of. But anyway, she was pregnant with the Son of God. When she told Joseph, he didn't believe her at first, but then and angel told him that Mary was telling the truth. So, when Joseph had to go to the place he was born at, he took Mary with him._

"_When they got there, they found out that nobody had room for them. So, an innkeeper took them to a stable. That night Mary had a baby. Do you know what they named him?"_

_He shook his head. "What?"_

"_They named him Jesus. Not to far away, in some hills, there were some shepherds with their sheep. Right when Jesus was born, an angel, the same angel that came to Mary, appeared to tell them about Jesus. So those shepherds went down to the stable to see him."_

"_Wow. What about those guys?" The boy pointed to the three kings._

"_Them? They were three Wise Men, some people call them kings, that were following a star that led them to the stable. They gave him gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Because baby Jesus is a king."_

_Eyes wide, he again said, "Wow." Then he frowned. "What does that have to do with Christmas?"_

"_Well honey! That's the whole reason we have Christmas! It's a celebration of Christ's birth. The first gift, also the reason we give gifts to each other. Now off to bed."_

* * *

Tork smiled. Maybe not a lot of decorations. But he at least needed to see a nativity. He frowned. Great. Now he was smiling like Lani was.

* * *

**Okay, just thought I might give ya'll a heads up. I regret to announce that Taro, Karma, and Shirako will most likely not be in the line up this year, as I can not seem to come up with a Christmas past for them. I think there will be only one more chapter after this. Just to let you know.**


	9. Asthma

The Hispanic followed Lani through the hall. She needed help finding some things, and Nolo had volunteered quite eagerly. When they had left the garage, he hadn't missed the looks his teammates gave him. Especially the expression which he had interpreted as lovey-dovey, from Vert.

"I haven't been down this hallway before," he commented.

Lani looked back. "Not many people have. Usually, only Dr. Tezla and I use it. It leads to the library."

"A library? Why does he need a library?"

Lani giggled. "I'm not sure. It's full of scientific stuff mostly. It also seems to be a museum. But the reason we're going back is for a book I need to study."

"Taking up science?"

"No," she said. "It also has books on engineering, medicine, history, and a few other stuff. I need one on medicine."

They reached a door with a keypad. Lani punched in the code and the door opened. Stepping in, Nolo could see Lani was right. It had artifacts dispersed among the books. These, Lani explained, were found in some of his exploits, and in some of the realms.

"That's the section we need to search." Lani pointed at a group of bookcases. "You take the first row, I'll take the second, and we'll skip each others rows when we need to move on."

Nolo nodded and Lani gave him the title. An hour later, Nolo saw the book. Reaching up, h grabbed it and opened it to double check the title.

"Hey Lani! Found it!" Smiling to himself, he started to walk down the row.

Nolo looked down and caught sight of a book mark tucked in between the pages. Curious, he opened the book to look at it. It was near the middle, a section talking bout different bacteria.

_Whoever was reading this must've got bored, _he thought. _No wonder. Bacteria? Boring._ He immediately slammed the book shut, causing dust to rise. Not good.

Nolo tried to calm down as he felt his lungs tighten, making his breathing wheezy.

Lani walked around the corner. "Thanks! Listen, I need a quiet place to study, so I'll be in here if anyone needs me, okay?"

Nolo nodded and smiled.

Lani returned the smile and said, "Thanks Nolo. See ya later."

He nodded again, glad she hadn't seemed to notice his condition, before turning towards the door. His breath was coming in quick gasps and he realized he didn't have his inhaler with him. He began to jog, though he knew it wasn't going to help any.

A few minutes later he arrived at his room, struggling for breath. The door opened and Nolo stumbled into the room, scrambling for his inhaler. Grabbing it from the table by his bed, he took a puff.

Unfortunately, he was still having hard time breathing. Taking another puff from his inhaler, he couldn't help but wish for Tone. His older brother was always there to help calm him when he was having an attack.

Nolo smiled weakly. One Christmas, he was sick from a recent asthma attack so he was laying on the couch. He felt so miserable and was so weak, he couldn't do much but lay there. All that time, Tone stayed near him as much as possible keeping him company. Come Christmas day, he felt some what better, but still weak. Tone had gladly helped him with everything.

When the piñata was out, Nolo thought he wouldn't participate; but Tone had other plans. He had crouched beside Nolo, letting his little brother crawl on his back. Somehow, he had managed to help Nolo swing the stick to hit the paper Mache burro.

Nolo felt tears well up in his eyes at the memory. This was his first Christmas without Tone and Nolo felt it. Nolo closed his eyes. He was still breathing heavily when he became aware of the door opening.

"Nolo?" He opened his eyes to see a concerned Kurt stand over him.

Kurt frowned as he saw the inhaler in Nolo's hand. He didn't know Nolo had asthma. Then he saw the tears. He went over and sat down beside his team leader.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked. "Tone?"

Nolo silently nodded. He tried to blink the tears away, but they kept coming.

"Nolo."

He looked up.

"It's okay. You can cry."

Nolo nodded again as the tears flowed. He began sobbing. He felt Kurt pull him into an embrace, and he didn't resist. He collapsed into Kurt's arms. Sadly, he acknowledged the fact that the tears wouldn't bring Tone back.

After a few minutes he calmed down. They sat in silence.

Finally Nolo spoke. "I miss him. I wish he hadn't died. There are so many things I need him for. Especially with these realms. He would know what to do."

Kurt slowly nodded. "Well, I know what he would say if he was here now."

Nolo looked up at him. "What?"

Kurt looked back. "He would say Merry Christmas."

* * *

**...And a Happy New Year! Thanks for the reviews!**


	10. Food

**I know!!! I finally got one for Shirako!!!**

* * *

Shirako Takamoto pulled up to the back entrance of one of Los Angeles' Salvation Army buildings. He left the Acceledrome extremely early in the morning so he could get here in time.

With a yawn, the young Japanese got out of his car and walked up to the plain, wooden door that served as the kitchen entrance. Not far from him, Shirako could see the chef's small garden, which was brown and empty now, because of the present season. Upon entering, Shirako was greeted with the warm, moist, roomy kitchen.

"Well, well, well. Look who just came in! I thought you weren't comin' for a while there, honey," a small, aging black woman said when she saw him.

Shirako smiled. "Hey, Ms. Pam."

They hugged while others shouted their greetings from their work stations. A tall Hispanic walked in holding an apron and hair net. "Put these on, Shirako! We've got work to do! Vamos!"

The Teku member was soon cutting up vegetables for a soup, while happily exchanging conversation with the other kitchen workers. Though he only came on Christmas Eve, and sometimes Christmas day, he had made such an impression on them that each year they all got to know him better and better, so he felt like an old friend that came more often.

It had started nine years ago, when Shirako was then. His father had just moved the family to America from Japan, in search for better work. Shirako's father had found a low-paying temporary job and so had his mother. So, with both parents out working all day and everyday, Shirako was left to fend for himself at their tiny apartment until they got home. And along with this limited parental authority, he also had a free leash. Everyday, with the apartment key in his picket, Shirako would go out and do whatever.

**Flashback**

_The small boy sat on the work bench, listening intently to the mechanic explaining the engine to him. Though he didn't understand much English, and spoke even less, little Shirako Takamoto didn't let that stop him from learning as much about cars as possible. The aging mechanic spoke slowly, carefully articulating his words while he also pointed at the objects he was talking about._

_It was Christmas Eve, and the only reason the mechanic was working was because of the little Japanese boy that came everyday to the repair shop. Today was the last "lesson" until the twenty-sixth of December._

_Glancing at the clock, the man suddenly stopped. "Oh man! I need to get home!"_

_Shirako's brow knitted together in thought. He recognized 'I' and 'home,' but not the other words. But he easily figured out that the man needed to get home._

_Slipping off the bench, he asked, "Tomorrow?"_

_The man looked at him. "No, not tomorrow. The day after tomorrow."_

_Shirako licked his lip. He couldn't remember what 'after' meant._

_Seeing this, the man grabbed a calendar. Pointing to the twenty-fifth, he said. "Not tomorrow." He traced an X with his finger on the date. "The day _after_ tomorrow." He tapped the twenty-sixth several times. Then, he repeated the motions, making sure the boy understood._

_Shirako did and nodded to the man. Grabbing his jacket, the boy waved goodbye to the friendly mechanic and left._

_The light outside was dimming, and a familiar pain in his stomach was growing. He was hungry, and he only had an apple for his lunch. Shirako, however, wasn't worried. His parents would be home when he got back, and dinner would be ready. Then he stopped. He remembered his parents saying something about being home late that night._

_Suddenly, Shirako was much hungrier than before. Gnawing in his bottom lip, he looked around, hoping for an idea to come to mind._

_While he was thinking about his little predicament, it occurred to Shirako that he could quite vividly smell a hot meal. The smell seemed to be coming from a large, rather plain, building across the street. In front of it, a tall pole stood with a red shield with white lettering on it._

_The hungry boy quickly ran across the road and went around the building, soon finding the kitchen door. He slowly opened it and peeked in. Within he could see people chopping up vegetables, gathering plates, and preparing desserts. Shirako knew that this wasn't a hotel, or a restaurant, so he couldn't figure out why they were preparing so much food. Suddenly, one of the people spotted him._

_At first, Shirako wanted to withdraw, thinking he was in trouble. But the friendly smile and beckoning motions convinced him otherwise. Timidly, he entered the warm kitchen while everyone looked at him._

"_Honey, are you hungry?" The woman asked._

_Shirako only understood the last two words, and he understood that the sentence was a question, and vigorously nodded._

_A few people chuckled good-naturedly._

_The woman was soon rushing him in and quickly set a bowl of stew with cornbread before him. Shirako wasted no time in gobbling up the food._

"_What's you're name, sugah?" The woman asked._

_After a moment of mental translation, Shirako answered in slow English. "My name is Shirako."_

_When the black lady realized his English wasn't very good, she carefully replied, "My name is Ms. Pam."_

_The young boy smiled back and said, "Ms. Pam."_

_After his meal, Shirako watched them get ready for dinner, and even helped cut up some vegetables. When the meal was ready, homeless men and woman lined up to receive their Christmas Eve meals. Observing all of this, Shirako decided that he wanted to do it again._

**End Flashback**

And so, he's been doing it ever since.

In a few hours time, Shirako and the others had finished making the meal, and were now serving it to hundreds of men, woman, and children.

* * *

**Sooo...did you like it? I hope so. Taro's comin' up next.**


	11. Drink

**Okay, I meant to have this up on Sunday...that obviously didn't work. This one's short. But, it exists!! Which, quite frankly, is something I thought would never happen.**

* * *

If there was one think Taro Katano liked above all else on Christmas Eve, it was hot chocolate. The hot, sweet, brown liquid running down you throat in the most delicious manner was too irresistible for him. Every Christmas Eve, for seven years, at nine O'clock, morning and night, Taro drank his fill.

The tradition had started when he first climbed Mount Everest to ski down.

_**Flashback**_

"_Come, come, Taro! It is your turn for the journal entry!!" Exclaimed Pierre in his curious French accent. The Parisian was holding a small video camera, somehow managing it quite nicely in his heavily loved hands._

_Rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, Taro turned around and faced the camera, calling up one of his rare smiled. "Hello…uh…journal. It is today, the twenty-fourth of December. Christmas Eve. We are about…a third of the way up Mount Everest-"_

"_Approximately 9,677 feet!" An accented voice was faintly heard off-screen._

_With laughing eyes, Taro resumed. "-Or approximately 9,677 feet, according to Hans the Swede. It is also about fifty below-"_

"_No, it is not!" Hans shouted again, quickly checked his thermometer, and announced, "It is only ten degrees below…Fahrenheit anyway."_

_Pierre chuckled, shaking the camera while Taro only widened his smile and rolled his eyes. "-We are about half a mile away from our ski point, a distance we hope to cover today. And since it is already nine O'clock this morning, I will end the journal entry for today so we can start." Taro bowed slightly to the camera turned to help the others pack up._

"Bon_, _bon_," Pierre declared, turning the recording contraption off as he, too, began to help the others. _

_Suddenly, Steve, the Canadian, stood up straight. "Did you say it was nine?"_

_The others looked up._

"_Yes," replied Taro. "Why?"_

_Without answering, Steve scurried towards his backpack and produced two thermos. Handing one to Taro, he commanded, "Drink! We'll share these between ourselves."_

_The other three exchanged puzzled glances, but silently obeyed. They were pleasantly surprised to find that it was hot chocolate in the thermos. _

_When they finished, Pierre spoke. "It is quite good, but why did we have to drink it now?"_

_Steve replaced the thermos in his pack and shrugged it on. "It's a family tradition. On Christmas Eve, at nine O'clock in the morning and at night, we drink hot chocolate. Since you all are my temporary family, even though I'm not at home I thought I'd carry on the tradition here, eh."_

_They nodded understandably and Hans asked, "Why is it a family tradition? Who started it?"_

_Steve was silent for a moment, thinking it over while they began their final trek. Finally, he said, "I have not idea."_

_The others laughed with the Canadian at the answer._

_They reached their final stop as evening fell, taking in the magnificent sunset, while hurrying to set up camp. They huddled their tents close together, and at nine O'clock, they were all crammed into Steve and Han's tent. _

"_Well, friends," Pierre began. "Now, we drink. Then, we sleep. And tomorrow, we ski. So, enjoy your fast paced Christmas."_

_They toasted to it, and drank the rest of their drinks._

_**End Flashback**_

For some odd reason, they had each carried on Steve's odd tradition, and called each other for accountability.

Suddenly, Taro's cell phone rang. With a knowing smile, Taro answered.

"_Taro, my friend!"_ Pierre's boisterous French voice fairly shouted. _"Have you drunk today?"_

"Yes, Pierre, I have. Have you?"

"Oui._ Since we have, I will wish you a Merry Christmas!"_

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

* * *

Oui- Yes

Bon-good.

**There you go. That is French, by the way. I'll try to have Karma's up soon.**


	12. Merry

**Here we go. The last installation of Ghost of Christmas past. In case you missed it, Taro was posted Friday.**

* * *

The slim brunette gathered the thick, soft blanket around her and snuggled comfortably into the couch. With a on the table before her, and the remote on the ar, rest beside her, Karma Eiss prepared to enjoy It's a Wonderful Life. It was her own little Christmas tradition, ever since she had discovered the movie, for every Christmas Eve.

This movie, oddly, was one of the few films she allowed her emotions to let loose. She laughed loudly for the humor, and sobbed fully when the movie called for it. The opening scene was just beginning, when an unexpected _swoosh_ interrupted.

"What are you watching?" Vert asked, staring at the dark screen.

Karma turned to glare at him. "It's a Wonderful Life."

The blond smiled widely. "Why, it _is_ a wonderful life! Aren't you thankful for it?"

Karma's already dark glare turned deadly. "Leave, Vert!"

Vert adopted a look of mock hurt. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was intruding. I know when I'm not wanted."

He stalked out of the room gloomily before Karma could say anything.

Turning back around, she pressed play on the remote.

The unseen characters were praying for Jimmy Stewart's character, George Bailey. Poor Mr. Bailey's Christmas was not looking to be merry, and Karma couldn't help but let her mind wander back to her many merry Christmases.

She called up images of Christmas decoration. Tall evergreens standing straight in her living room, filling the air with the smell of pine resin, and littering the floor with little pine needles. Her older sister wrestling with tangles lights to place upon the tree. Boxes of carefully wrapped ornament to hang after the ribbon and angel.

She remembered the sounds of Christmas. Those tiny, silver bells being rung by the Salvation Army volunteers. The sound of wrapping paper being cut and folded. The dings of oven timers when the cookies were done, baked to a gorgeous golden white.

Ah! The smells and tastes of Christmas! That incredibly sweet, moist, melt-in-your-mouth cookie that was decorated in greens, reds, whites, and golds. The fragrant odors of delicious holiday-appropriate foods Karma could still smell them.

However, although she loved all of these things, they weren't the core of making Christmas merry. Thanks to those often-dreaded trips to church on Christmas Eve, Karma knew the real reason behind a merry Christmases. That reason came wrapped up in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

Karma remembered how she would spend the hour-long services looking at, or drawing, pictures of the nativity scene when she was young. When she was older, she would actually listen to the story, gaining more and more insight from it every year. When she had slight doubts about it all, she realized why giving was such a joy. Because in the beginning, when man was made from God's image, the generous spirit was embedded into human kind, and only had to be sought out to use, and scrutinized to find it's true beginning. The ultimate example of course, being that evening in a stable, in a town with utterly filled inns, where a savior was born. A savior who was to grow up to die, and then rise again.

And that, is the reason Karma knew that Christmas_ was_ merry, and always will be, and why. Yes, that is the reason it _is_ a wonderful life: because of Christ.

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_Thus ends the collection of short stories, all wrapped up to create _Ghost of Christmas Past._ I dearly hope they were all enjoyed, Merry Christmas._

* * *

**There you go! **


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